Image

Blue Whistling Thrush

the forest resounded
with his crepuscular serenades
the day ebbed away

Photo by the poet

2 Comments Text
  • Your most of the posts carry a different truth of intelligence. Of late, I observe in dispassionate that most scholars(?) look at things superficially.
    Either they do not understant or they simply soft-pedal the crux of the say. I hear the voice of Ruth in your crisp write-up. The gloam radiates its varigaeted hues in perfect harmony with Nature. The term ‘crepuscular’ itself carries the voice of a broken heart. Is the bird the symbol of a carrier of a missive?
    How does ‘forest’ become a male voice whereas the appeal of the haiku represents the soft voice of the feminity? This is my personal observation.

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